


Nunya Business

by Lush_Specimen



Series: Hotlock History [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Canon, driftrod and hotlock double feature!, let's watch romantic comedies and share how we met stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lush_Specimen/pseuds/Lush_Specimen
Summary: After a marathon of holiday themed romantic comedies at Swerve's, several members of the crew linger to share the stories of how they first met over drinks.“Speaking of details, if you tell old war stories, you’re gonna have to use the names we went by at that time.” A mischievous grin curled across Drift’s face, highlighted by his scarlet facial markings. “Hot Rod!”“Ugh!” Rodimus threw his head back and groaned. “I hate that.”“Hot Rod?” Tailgate squealed. “That’s adorable!”
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod, Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus
Series: Hotlock History [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584421
Comments: 24
Kudos: 163





	1. Driftrod

“Rodimus! Drift! Over here!” Tailgate waved enthusiastically from a crowded table in the center of Swerve’s. He had clamored up onto Cyclonus’ shoulder to make himself more visible, brilliant white against deep purple. Several members of the crew lingered after Rewind’s latest movie marathon: a collection of hilariously formulaic holiday themed romantic comedies. 

“What’s up, Short Stack?” Rodimus grinned. Still not completely comfortable with crowds, Drift moved to quietly slip away. Determined to help him fit in, Rodimus looped a casual arm around Drift’s waist and gently tugged him along. Rodimus’ engine purred as Drift relaxed with his subtle support. 

“Well,” Tailgate began as he hopped back down and settled himself on Cyclonus’ lap. “After watching those movies, I started wondering how everyone met, so we're sharing stories!” 

“Everyone knows my world begins and ends with me!” Whirl piped up. His adopted swarm of scraplets was curled up around his shoulders in the form of a crimson turbofox, purring contentedly. “And of course, no one else can match this glamorous gallant.” He patted Tailgate on the head with his claws. “Who else slept through an apocalyptic war only to wake up, buffalo his way onto a universe-spanning quest, survive an incurable disease, and start an epic slow burn romance with the hot brooding sword guy?! NO ONE, that’s who!!” 

Tailgate’s teal visor shimmered as he giggled. Cyclonus’ impassive expression remained unchanged although his angular cheeks glowed soft pink. 

“But we DO have a few solid contenders!” Whirl waved a claw around the table. 

“Lotty rescued me from an incredibly awkward friendship argument.” Nautica chimed in. She cuddled the green medic’s shoulder, prompting Velocity to choke on her drink with laughter. “My hero!” 

“I ran into Lug during an extremely sensitive materials liberation expedition.” Anode offered, nonchalantly leaning her chair back to prop her feet up on the table. 

“Pfft!” Lug playfully cuffed her shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance. “Ran into me is right! You literally bowled me over then dragged me along as the police chased you for swiping a sample of sentio metallico from a shady vendor on Troja Major.” 

“That vendor had no business trying to sell Cybertronian life-material so it doesn’t count as stealing. In fact, the only thing that I actually stole that day was your spark!” Anode wagged her brows. 

“Ugh!” Lug dragged a palm down her face. “That’s so true. I hate it.” She huffed an exaggerated sigh but a fond light glowed in her blue optics. 

“So? What about you two?” Tailgate propped his chin up with his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I’ll bet it was something daring and adventurous! Like the movie where the sledding champion had to rescue the cute ski instructor from an avalanche.” 

“I’ll admit, I’m curious as well.” Cyclonus coolly regarded them with his crimson optics. He sipped an extremely expensive mixed engex in a tall violet glass, claws tracing abstract patterns on Tailgate’s armor. “You two were already close when I got involved with the Autobots.” 

“Yeah!” Whirl narrowed his single golden optic and jabbed a claw towards Drift and Rodimus. “Spill it! Thrill us with an epic swashbuckling adventure!” 

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s pretty mundane.” Drift shrugged. “After I quit the Decepticons and left the Crystal City, I wandered the galaxy alone for a while until a vision led me to the Autobots. Rodimus was the only one who really trusted me.” He squeezed Rodimus with a smile. 

“LAME!” Whirl groaned. He slumped down and gently ruffled his scraplets’ simulated fur when they startled at his outburst. 

Rodimus gasped and pulled away from Drift in mock offense. “I can’t believe you’re going with the most boring story ever!” 

“Technically, that was the first time “Drift” met “Rodimus”.” Drift made air quotes with his fingers at the mention of their names. 

“You’ve been hanging out with Ratchet too much.” Rodimus playfully shoved him. “Literally any story is better than that one.” 

“I don’t get it.” Tailgate cocked his head to one side. “How could you have more than one first meeting?” 

“Both Drift and I have been through several name changes and frame upgrades. Let’s see...” Rodimus tapped his chin stared at the ceiling. “What story should I tell? The one with the Sharkticons? Or that one time at the underground non-factional flashlight drag races? That one’s pretty exciting!” 

“If you’re really going to do this, you might as well start at the very beginning.” Resigning himself to joining in on the conversation, Drift took a seat at the table and pulled out a chair for Rodimus. “The Iron Bridge over Sonic Canyon.” 

“AW YEAH! You’re gonna love this one!” Rodimus lit up, mentally awarding himself a Rodimus Star for getting Drift to willing join in a group sharing stories about their pasts. He ignored the proffered chair and flopped himself diagonally across Drift’s lap. Drift giggled. Rodimus reveled in the way it tickled his frame, remembering a time when his laughter didn’t come so freely. “I totally save Drift’s life!” 

“What?!” Drift nudged him, finally warming up to sharing their story, probably because Rodimus had draped himself across him like a security blanket. “You’re the one who almost got me killed in the first place! And, if it wasn’t for me, YOU would have died, probably in gruesomely dramatic fashion.” 

“Details!” Rodimus waved off his concern. “And everything I do is gruesomely dramatic!” 

“Speaking of details, if you tell old war stories, you’re gonna have to use the names we went by at that time.” A mischievous grin curled across Drift’s face, highlighted by his scarlet facial markings. “Hot Rod!” 

“Ugh!” Rodimus threw his head back and groaned. “I hate that.” 

“Hot Rod?” Tailgate squealed. “That’s adorable!” 

“Oh! He WAS adorable!” Drift’s smile broadened into something predatory, flashing the tips of his fangs. Rodimus shuddered when Drift winked at him. He called down the thunder when he convinced Drift to stay and now he’d have to deal with the consequences. “He was only about half the size that he is now. Isn’t that right, little Roddy?” 

“First of all,” Rodimus elbowed him, “Shut up! I was NOT half the size! I’ve never been THAT small. It’s just that back then, you were twice as big.” Rodimus puffed out his cheeks and swayed back and forth. “When ol’ Deadlock here went to the Decepticon supply depot, they showed him all the available armor options and he just said ‘yes, please’.” 

“Whatever!” Drift dismissed his teasing with a wave and countered with some of his own. “That’s the same thing you said to Tracks when he showed you the entire collection of flame decals.” 

“Hell yeah I did!” Rodimus beamed. “I made them all look good too!” 

“Oh wow!” Tailgate craned his neck and scanned the crowd. “I wonder if Rewind has any old pictures of you two? Where is he?” 

“PICTURES?!” Rodimus and Drift shouted at once. Their optics widened in terror prompting a soft chuckle from Cyclonus and a wild cackle from Whirl. 

“Let’s- let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Drift stammered. His optics pleaded with Rodimus for rescue. Since he wasn’t really all that enthused about sharing images of his old self with everyone, Rodimus was more than happy to oblige. He did used to wear a LOT of flame decals. Like so many. 

“Now’s not the time for that!” Rodimus shouted. “We’re telling stories. Do you want to hear about how we first met or not?” 

“Do I ever! Different names, frames, and factions?! This is so exciting!” Tailgate was practically vibrating. 

“Okay!” Satisfied that Tailgate was sufficiently distracted by the promise of their story to press Rewind for pictures, Rodimus sighed with relief. He snuggled close to Drift and waved a golden hand across the table. “Let me set the stage for you. It was early in the war. I had recently joined up with the Autobots as a scout and saboteur on account of- of my experience with-” He faltered as his mind wandered to Nyon burning. Even after millions of years, it still plagued him. 

Without saying a word, Drift’s fingers entwined with his, reigniting his trademark confidence. “Anyways, the Autobots were holed up in a makeshift camp on the edge of the Rust Sea with the Iron Bridge providing the quickest access across the Sonic Canyon to that area. The Decepticon army was closing in and Optimus sent me to blow up the bridge to slow them down…”


	2. Hotlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus tells the tale of how Hot Rod first met Deadlock. He nearly killed the handsome Decepticon speedster by accident and then resolves to save his life. When they end up trapped together under a ton of debris from an explosion that Hot Rod caused, they discover an unexpected camaraderie.
> 
> Whirl is unimpressed.

“Hot Rod? Do you copy?” Optimus Prime’s voice crackled over the comm link. 

“Loud and clear, Big Bot!” Hot Rod answered. He clapped the dust from his hands and looked up at a job well done. Knowing that the Decepticons had snipers posted all over the route to the bridge, Hot Rod had taken the long way: driving up through the deep canyon then scaling the rocky walls to set the explosives on the underside of the bridge supports. 

“We have reports that the advance Decepticon forces are approaching. Are all the charges set? As much as I hate to destroy infrastructure, we need to blow that bridge as soon as possible to protect our base.” 

“I’m ready to kick the tires and light the fires, big daddy!” 

“... Excuse me?” 

“It’s from this movie... Nevermind. I already set the timers and am heading out to a safe distance now.” Hot Rod transformed into his speedster alt mode. He revved his engine and raced down the canyon away from the blast zone as the timer ticked down. Angling his rearview mirror up at the bridge supports, a rumble of satisfaction ran through Hot Rod’s frame. Each tiny blinking red light marked a fully armed explosive. In ten seconds, the bridge will nothing but a memory and rain of debris. 

Casting one last quick glance behind him, Hot Rod spun to a stop. “Oh scrap!” A sleek white racer painted with dark slashes of gray idled directly under the bridge. He transformed and began to patrol the area. Apparently the Decepticons decided to post sentries down here after all. 

“Is everything alright?” Optimus shouted over the comm system, jarring Hot Rod’s audials. 

“NO!” Hot Rod whipped around and raced directly towards the Decepticon guard. He didn’t want anyone caught in the destruction he was about to cause, regardless of faction. He already had too many deaths caused by his collateral damage weighing on his conscious. The next time he killed someone, he at least wanted it to be on purpose. “I mean YES! I’ll handle it!” 

“Whatever it is, you don’t have the time!” Hot Rod winced at the concern in Optimus’ voice. “Turn on your locator beacon. I’m on my way!” 

“Yeah. Whatever. Gotta go!” Hot Rod turned off his comm link and checked his timer. Only five seconds left. Time rapidly slipping away, he pushed himself faster and faster. 

Four. The Decepticon noticed him. 

Three. He raised his rifle and Hot Rod skidded into a serpentine slide to make himself a harder target. 

Two. Hot Rod’s tachometer approached the red line. Bullets thudded into the ground on his side as he continued swerving. 

One. A deafening sequence of explosions rocked the canyon. Crimson optics widening, the Decepticon stared up in shock as ragged chunks of the ruined bridge fell towards him. 

Hot Rod gunned his engine, dodging the incoming rain of debris. He transformed and let his momentum carry him forward as he slammed into the stunned Decepticon, knocking him offline. Wrapping his arms around his waist and gripping him tight enough to trade paint, they tumbled together towards the cliff wall. The roar of destruction filled his audials. Hot Rod quickly recovered and braced himself over the fallen Decepticon as the world crashed down around them. He closed his optics and prayed that he managed to get them to a safe spot. 

The silence that followed the destruction pressed down on Hot Rod worse than the explosive cacophony. It reminded him of Nyon's aftermath, of death and ashes. Pushing those memories aside, Hot Rod opened his optics. He was alive. Score one point! The Decepticon was alive too! Two points!! Unfortunately, he was unconscious with a nasty gash across his thigh. Energon bubbled freely from the wound, casting a soft pink glow on his white armor. Hot Rod’s spoiler drooped when he took note of their surroundings. They were trapped in small space created by one of the fallen slabs of road bed, buried under a mound of mangled iron beams and broken stone. 

Double-checking that locator beacon was still functioning gave Hot Rod comfort that at least help was on the way. Carefully crawling over the Decepticon in the tight space, Hot Rod examined his injuries. Although heavily armored, the Decepticon had a slight racer’s frame. He needed to repair his ruptured fuel lines or he could bleed to death. Then all of this would have been for nothing. 

Out of necessity, Hot Rod had learned to patch himself up so it shouldn’t be too hard to fix someone else. Right? At least fixing someone else would hurt a lot less than patching his own wounds. He channeled some of his fire into one finger to create a makeshift welding torch and got to work. After a few moments the Decepticon groaned. Hot Rod froze. 

“Just get it over with.” The Decepticon growled, static marring his resonant voice. He shifted slightly and hissed in pain. 

“I’m trying!” Hot Rod resumed his work. “But I can’t weld that fast.” 

“Welding?” 

“Duh! That’s what I said.” 

“You’re not torturing me to death?” The Decepticon propped himself up on his elbows and narrowed his crimson optics. 

“Ouch! I know I’m not a trained medic, but I’m doing my best.” Hot Rod laughed. “Now keep still. If you move around too much, it’ll hurt more. Trust me! I speak from experience!” 

“I shot at you.” He cocked his head to one side and stared intently at Hot Rod. Despite his bared fangs, the Decepticon’s engine rumbled with more confusion than malice. Hot Rod focused on continuing his weld bead instead of how pleasantly the vibration resonated through his frame. 

“So have a lot of people. I’m not about to take it personally.” Hot Rod shrugged. “Speaking of personal, I’m Hot Rod! What’s your name?” 

“None of your business.” 

“That’s kind of long, but all the best names are taken.” Hot Rod grinned. “I’m gonna call you Nunya for short.” Hot Rod scrunched his face and snickered. The Decepticon stared at him. “Get it? Because-” 

“I get your stupid joke, I just don’t like it.” Nunya snapped and canted his finials back. “What I don’t get is why you’re helping me. Nobody helps me.” 

"Good news! I just happen to be nobody!” 

“I thought you were ‘Hot Rod’?” Nunya huffed. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards into the very beginnings of a smile. 

“You are listening!” Warmth spread through Hot Rod’s circuits. “Okay! Then remember this: One day I’m gonna be somebody! I’m gonna be Prime!” 

“Prime, huh?” The Decepticon winced and leaned back. “What’s a runt like you gonna do as Prime?” 

“Hey! We’re practically the same size!” Hot Rod pouted. “For your information, as Prime I am going to protect everyone. Make sure no one gets left behind or thrown out or told that they’re not good enough.” 

Hot Rod glanced up from his repairs to find Nunya staring at him. The sharp wariness in his crimson optics softened and the ghost of a wistful smile played on his lips. “That’s a big dream for such a tiny speedster,” he whispered. 

“I’m gonna need help! Obvs!” Hot Rod finished his last weld and crouched back on his heels, waiting for the heated metal to cool before inspecting the seams for leaks. “Why don’t you come with me? You’re from Rodion so I bet we have a lot in common. We should stick together!” 

“How did you-” Nunya’s engine revved with suspicion. 

“The accent.” Hot Rod cut him off with a wink. Nunya snorted. 

The Decepticon ran his hands over his new weld seams and hummed with satisfaction. He stretched his repaired limb. Even in such a confined space, he moved with fluidity and grace. Hot Rod’s spark spun a little faster. 

“For what it’s worth,” Nunya’s finials canted back. He met Hot Rod’s optics with a strangely ferocious camaraderie, “I’m sorry to hear about Nyon. It was a rough town, but they didn’t deserve what they got. The accent gives you away too.” 

Hot Rod gasped. Nyon did deserve better. Hugging his knees to his chest, he fought the tears that rushed to his optics. It was his fault. If only he could have thought of a better solution. He screwed his optics shut as tears burned down his cheeks. An entire city filled with people burned to ash and lost to the winds of history because he wanted to prevent them from being turned into a weapon. His swallowed sobs squeaked harshly in the oppressive silence. They all deserved so much better than Hot Rod. 

He could have sworn he felt the lightest brush of tentative fingertips along his spoiler. Although he knew it couldn’t be real, he leaned into the tenebrous touch anyway. Why did his fragging processor insist on playing such cruel tricks on him? 

The hollow clatter of tumbling stone snapped him out of his guilt spiral. Someone was digging through the rubble. Hot Rod shoved the memories of Nyon forcibly from his processor for the third time today. 

“Optimus! My team found me!” Hot Rod scrubbed his tears away with the heel of his palm. He blinked in the darkness, surprised to find Nunya at his side. Strangely, Hot Rod felt more of a connection with this nameless Decepticon who had shot at him than most of the other Autobot soldiers. He turned his hopeful optics towards Nunya. “You wanna come with me?” 

The Decepticon grimaced, expression darkening like the clouds covering the sun. Pulling away, Nunya shook his head. 

“It’s okay! Don't worry!” Hot Rod held up his hands, overwhelmed with the urge to set the Decepticon at ease. “I’ll lead them away as quickly as I can then you can go back to your team. You should probably still see a medic though. I did my best, but I’ve only ever repaired myself before.” 

A few beams of light broke through a clearing at the far side of their little cavern. Hot Rod crawled towards it, wriggling between the broken iron beams. Casting one more glance behind him nearly broke his spark. Nunya huddled back into the shadows, curled tightly around himself. Hot Rod ached to bring him along, but he wouldn’t drag him somewhere against his will. 

Steeling himself for another lecture about reckless behavior, Hot Rod slipped on the bright charisma he wore like armor. He squeezed his way to the widening opening. “Primus! Am I ever glad to- HRKK!” 

A huge set of claws clamped down on his throat and dragged him roughly from the debris. The mangled rebar gouged deep scratches in his fiery paintwork. Hot Rod desperately grasped at the armored fist daggling him high above the ground and choking off his voice. His optics flared. He was in trouble. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” A massive monstercon growled, a curious predatory light shone in his golden optics while the angular purple Decepticon badge glinted proudly on his chest. He gave Hot Rod a violent shake, squeezing tighter on his delicate neck cables. 

Hot Rod calmed his revving motor. He destroyed his own city, he could handle one lousy monstercon. So what if he was ten times his size? Gripping his arm tightly for support, Hot Rod quickly twisted his entire frame and swung his leg around to kick the monstercon square in the face. The beast roared and dropped him to the ground with a crash. Ignoring the armor panels that crumpled on impact, Hot Rod clamored up some rocks to give himself some room to move. 

“You’ve got spunk, Autobot. I’ve give you that.” The monstercon rubbed his jaw. “You know, I used to be one of Megatron’s favorites before a certain aloof speedster showed up. All white and gray and refined ruthlessness. In fact, you kinda remind me of him.” He snarled, baring rows of sharp fangs. “That explosion provides the perfect opportunity to make someone disappear. I had hoped to tear him apart in this deserted wasteland, but you’ll have to do.” He cracked his knuckles and lunged. 

Hot Rod easily dodged the clumsy attack. His mind raced. The monstercon was looking to kill Nunya! He always heard Decepticon command structure was extremely volatile. It was his fault that Nunya got hurt and was in no shape to fight off this attack. Hot Rod had to protect him. Especially after he worked so hard to weld him back together. He sighed. How does he always manage to cause so much trouble for everyone? 

“What’s a pipsqueak like you doing out here all alone?” The monstercon’s claws closed on thin air as Hot Rod lightly danced away again. “Unless you’re not.” His face twisted into a leering grin. “Who is with you?” 

“None of your business!” Hot Rod laughed at his own personal joke. He hoped Nunya heard him, just to coax another smile across that handsome face. He kept moving, always a step ahead of the larger Decepticon, gradually leading him away from Nunya’s hiding spot. If only he could get past all this debris, he could easily outrun this lumbering idiot while giving Nunya enough time to get to safety. 

“Hold still, runt!” The monstercon lunged, landing hard in the dirt as Hot Rod easily dodged him again. He howled with rage. 

“Pfft! If that’s the best you got, no wonder ol’ Megs kicked you to the curb.” Hot Rod scoffed, pausing to turn and stick his tongue out at his furious pursuer. Almost in the clear, Hot Rod leapt up onto the last pile of rock in his way. A jolt of fear shot through him as the rubble slid under his feet and he tumbled backwards. 

“Gotcha!” The monstercon roared as his claws closed around Hot Rod’s golden spoiler, crumpling it in his iron grip. He spun and slammed Hot Rod into the ground so hard, his optics flickered. Harsh laughter rang in his audials. Hot Rod’s armor squealed as one large clawed foot slowly pressed down firmly on his chest. “Let’s see you get out of this!” The monstercon snarled. “Where’s all your fancy footwork now?” 

Hot Rod desperately scrabbled at the impossible weight bearing down on him, scratching the golden paint off his fingertips pushing against those unforgiving claws. He vented a sharp intake when something cracked on his side, shuddering as warm energon splashed over his mangled spoiler. Darkness played at the edges of his vision. So much for making good on his boasts of becoming Prime. 

With a dozen different warnings flashing through his HUD, Hot Rod struggled to focus through the searing pain. He reached deep inside himself to summon all his remaining energy. Although the monstercon had incredibly heavy armor, he should be able to melt him if he could get his fire burning hot enough. Fighting back tears, Hot Rod purposefully recalled igniting the spark that turned his home into a raging inferno. Writhing beneath the monstercon’s inescapable claws, his armor began to glow. Dull orange brightening to intense yellow as his temperature steadily rose. Hot Rod gritted his teeth and prepared to throw everything he had left into one massive conflagration, hoping his spark could take the strain. 

BANG! The single crack of close-range gunshot echoed through the canyon. 

The jeering laughter fell silent as the monstercon thudded heavily into the dust beside him. Hot Rod let go of his fire, shivering as his armor rapidly cooled, and wriggled out from under the dead monstercon’s claws. He cautiously uncurled himself to find a certain Decepticon speedster limping towards him, wreathed in the smoke rising from his rifle barrel. 

Hot Rod scrambled to his feet, leapt up and threw his arms around Nunya’s neck, ignoring the way the Decepticon’s circuits locked up. “Thank Primus! You’re okay!” 

“ME?!” Nunya’s crimson optics darted over Hot Rod’s battered frame. “You’re the one that almost got fragging murdered.” 

“Please.” Hot Rod wiped the energon leaking from his nose with his thumb, swaying on his trembling legs. “I had him right where I wanted him.” 

“I guess nobody needs my help after all.” Nunya shrugged, a sly grin spreading across his face. Hot Rod’s jaw dropped before bursting into laughter. He grasped Nunya’s shoulder to keep himself from toppling over. The Decepticon’s plating twitched but he didn’t pull away. 

“Come on! You’ve gotta come with me! We make a great team.” Hot Rod exclaimed when his laughter subsided enough to speak. 

“I am NOT joining the Autobots.” Nunya snarled. 

“S’not what I asked.” 

“What? You want me to just follow you around? Like your pet?” 

“No, stupid!” Hot Rod giggled. “Like my friend. I’m not responsible enough to care for a pet!” 

That comment actually got a laugh from the Decepticon. It was light and resonant, with just a little static around the edges like he hadn’t laughed in a long time. Hot Rod’s engine purred. 

The distant rumble of a large engine laboring for speed sounded through the canyon followed by the worried cries of “HOT ROD! WHERE ARE YOU?” 

“I’ll think about it... Hot Rod.” The Decepticon quickly turned to leave, flexing his repaired limb in preparation to transform. 

“Wait! Nun-” Hot Rod reached out for him, but he gracefully slipped away. 

“Deadlock.” 

Hot Rod stopped short, blinking in confusion. 

“My name is Deadlock.” With that he hopped lightly down from the rubble, transformed into a sleek gray speedster and sped away. 

“See ya around, Deadlock!” Hot Rod waved, a victorious grin spreading across his face.  
______________________________________________________________________________ 

“BOOM!” Rodimus leaned back against Drift’s chest with a smug smile. “Was that awesome enough for you?” 

“Hmm...” Whirl narrowed his single golden optic. “Not bad, I guess.” 

“Not bad?!” Rodimus sputtered. He jabbed an accusatory finger at the unimpressed Wrecker. “That was totes amazing and you know it!” 

“Wait!” Tailgate raised his hand. “I have a question.” 

“Go ahead, Slugger!” Rodimus grinned. 

“It’s for Drift.” 

Rodimus cast a quick glance at Drift. If Drift didn’t feel like answering, he could change the subject in an instant. Distractions were one of his many specialties. When their blue optics met, Drift offered the slightest nod with a gentle smile. Rodimus’ spoiler bounced, thrilled that Drift felt comfortable enough to field a question about their story. 

“Ask away!” Rodimus shifted himself so that Tailgate could face Drift directly. 

“Well, did you?” Tailgate leaned so far forward, Cyclonus grasped the back of his armor to keep him from toppling over. 

“Did I what?” Drift asked, taking a sip of the sweet effervescent drink that had materialized in front of him at some point during their story. As soon as Drift set it down, Rodimus snatched it up to finish it off. 

“Did you ever think about joining up with Hot Rod-?” 

Rodimus choked on his drink and glared at Tailgate with narrowed optics. Whirl cackled. 

“I mean RODIMUS!” Tailgate quickly corrected himself, earning a satisfied smile from the red speedster. “Did you ever think about joining Rodimus? You know, while you were still a Decepticon?” 

Drift smiled and cast a glance at Rodimus with a wink that sent a shiver through all of his circuits. “That’s none of your business!”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> I appreciate your kudos and love reading your comments!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at: [lush-specimen.tumblr.com](https://lush-specimen.tumblr.com/)


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